


A Casual Affair

by AHM1121



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Army Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes, Exactly one spank, Feels, Forehead Kisses, Foreplay, Happy Ending, Inappropriate use of Buckys metal arm, Just another Bar AU, M/M, Mature Bucky Barnes, Minor Violence, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sassy Steve Rogers, Yes you read that right I said Daddy Kink, light kink, too bad Brock Rumlow doesn't like breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHM1121/pseuds/AHM1121
Summary: Bucky is sitting alone at the bar when his plot twist for the night happens. From the moment the pair walk in, the tall dark-haired arrogant-lookin’ one is rolling his eyes, while the lithe blonde is fuming. Bucky raises his eyebrows and sips his whiskey.Dinner and a show,he muses as the blonde sends his partner a death glare, stopping in his tracks while waiting for the oblivious brunette to notice.When the first punch is thrown, Bucky has no idea just how much his night is going to change._______Or that one time Steve Rogers can't keep his ineffectual tiny fists to himself and ends up calling Bucky Barnes "Daddy"._______Inspired by P!ATD - "A Casual Affair"





	A Casual Affair

_Hey, a casual affair_  
_That could go anywhere_  
_And only for tonight_

Bucky is sitting alone at the bar when his plot twist for the night happens. From the moment the pair walk in, the tall dark-haired arrogant-lookin’ one is rolling his eyes, while the small, no not the right word, lithe blonde is following and fuming; his slight shoulders are thrown back and rigid and that wonderful jawline is pushed out stubbornly. Whatever he’s saying is drowned out by the music coasting over the dance floor that’s steadily filling as the clock nears eleven and cascading around the L shaped bar. Bucky raises his eyebrows and sips his whiskey. _Dinner and a show_ , he muses as the blonde sends his partner a death glare, stopping in his tracks and quirking a brow, waiting for the oblivious brunette to notice.

Bucky smirks, _hot little thing with an attitude_. His eyes roam from the tight jeans and white collared shirt rolled up to the elbows revealing pale thin arms, to his casually tousled cap of blond hair; _not hot, beautiful...beautiful and pissed._ The look he’s giving the man makes Bucky want to cower for the idiot, because when he finally stops and turns, raising his hands in what can only be taken as a “what the fuck” motion with words Bucky can’t hear, the small blonde snaps, the little balled-up fist that was at his side now solidly connecting with the guy’s jaw, causing the man’s neck to snap back in an almost comical manner. Bucky’s out of his seat and he doesn’t quite understand why his legs are eating up the space between him and the couple until he sees the man look back at the blonde with hot hatred.

“You fuckin’ little twi-” Stepping in as the first is rearing back, Bucky goes with instinct (and a decade in the special forces), blocking it with his left arm. The thud of flesh hitting metal fills the space as he slides between the two.

“God I hope you’re not going to try that again.” Bucky warns cooly, almost daring him to do just that.

The man makes to side-step, to which Bucky rolls his eyes and shifts. “This doesn’t concern you.” He spits back and Bucky can see the malice churning.

“But see, it does,” Bucky responds with mock casualty, “I have a real hard time walking away from a fight. Ask any of my friends, it’s a terrible habit of mine. I’ll gladly take you down bud, or I’ll move so blondie here can,” he throws a thumb over his shoulder to the little blonde. It’s actually rather laughable because now that he’s closer to the situation, the blonde is even more delicate that his first appearance let on, however pride is of importance and Bucky isn’t gonna go stompin’ on it. “But either way you’re going down. So maybe just leave and save yourself the time and possible hospital bill?”

His gaze flickers from Bucky to the man behind him a few times, calculating the risks, before shrugging and walking past, purposefully ramming his shoulder into Bucky’s on his way out.

“Don’t expect me to thank you or your metal arm.” The voice behind him is a deep melodic baritone, distinctly adjacent to the small frame that carries it.

Well that wasn’t the response he was expecting at all. Turning, a slick reply rearing to go, his mouth snaps shut when he sees the man is already walking away, fist still clenched at his side. “The fuck?”

______

“Fucking Brock Rumlow.” Steve murmurs to nobody in particular as the second shot of Fireball burns its way down his throat. Tonight was set to be a perfectly pleasant evening, thank you very fuckin’ much. But of course, the jackass that is Brock Rumlow had to disclose to Steve RIGHT BEFORE walking into the club that he wanted an open relationship…alright, to be fair, Steve understands the parameters of sexual preferences, needs, and urges. It was the execution of the matter that had set him off.

For example: If this conversation would have happened in Steve’s apartment prior to them leaving persae, his hand probably wouldn’t be throbbing insistently. If Brock had mentioned it sooner, maybe as they were sitting and eating dinner for an hour and a half, he wouldn’t be clenching and unclenching his fist wondering whether he would be able to sketch his assignment for his class on Monday. If Brock had maybe brought it up during the last two fuckin’ months of their relationship, Steve would probably be able to glance across the bar, and his eyes wouldn’t continuously land on the tall man with the broad shoulders whose perfectly styled hair and neatly trimmed beard had faint streaks of gray lacing through it, with his ridiculously fascinating metal arm that Steve can’t stop itching to draw. Christ. Rubbing a hand across his face in frustration Steve sighs before starting a staring contest with his reflection in the shiny bar top.

 _Fuck you Brock Rumlow_ , Steve thinks before signaling the bartender for another shot.

“You’re probably going to want to ice that.” The voice in his ear startles him enough that the empty shot glass clatters onto the bar, and he hopes the bass of the music that’s thrumming around them covers the noise. He sends the bartender a grateful smile as the new shot full of amber liquid is placed in front of him before turning.

“You a doctor or just a guy with a hero complex?” He asks, cocking a brow and raising the shot of liquid courage to his lips before downing it, praying for the sweet surrender of a good buzz to numb the pain and give him the ability to speak to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Metal Armed.

“Neither. Just a guy who’s been in a few battles.” The man leans in, reaches around Steve, and begins to rummage behind the bar. Steve being the cool, calm, and collected guy that he is, backs up at the sudden closeness, wincing when his hip collides with a bar stool.

“Jumpy?” He asks with a smirk, before pulling his hand back to reveal a cloth filled with ice. “C’mon. Let me see it.”

Steve knows it’s childish and stubborn of him but he hides his hand behind his back in defiance anyway. Really, if the guy knew Steve’s stubborn streak he wouldn’t be surprised. This is just a taste. “No.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” The man rolls his eyes and crowds into Steve’s space again. He’s a good head taller than him but that doesn’t mean Steve misses the way his stormy gray eyes flicker down to Steve’s lips, or the way his jaw works in frustration as he presses their bodies together obtrusively.

 _Christ he smells good. No Steve, remember being stubborn?!_ “What the f--” Steve hisses as the ice makes contact with his injured hand. The relief the cold gives isn’t instant, but it’s nice, with a promise to soothe. His eyes flick up to the man who is now impossibly close, eyeing him wearily when he steps back and tugs Steve’s hand from behind his back, bringing it to rest on Steve’s chest.

“Probably throbbing, huh?” He asks gently, before lifting the makeshift ice pack off Steve’s hand to run a finger carefully over the knuckles. And fuck Brock Rumlow because Steve’s heart is pounding at the gentle act of kindness and the look of concern, while his brain fizzles a little at the way the man catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth.

“A little.” Shrugging, Steve looks at the bruise that’s beginning to bloom. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh yeah?” The man’s brows raise doubtfully as his Brooklyn lit laces his words. “Go punching guys twice your size often do ya, pal?”

“Actually, yeah.” The little smile graces Steve’s lips before he can remember that he’s supposed to be filled with angst for a possibly ruined night.

With a huff of laughter the man brings Steve's hand closer to his face. “Why am I not surprised?” Inspecting the digits thoroughly, he runs his thumb and fingers between the joints of Steve’s palm and forehand, before looking over each knuckle. “Don’t think anything’s broken, but you’re gonna have one hell of a bruise.” Steve’s next words are lost as the man brushes his lips along the bruised knuckles. Steve stares at him, mouth agape. “It’s what my ma would do whenever I got scraped up. Figured it would help.” He shrugs before replacing the ice pack on Steve’s hand and pressing it back to Steve’s chest. “Keep it above your heart and leave the ice on for thirty minutes, should help the throbbing and bruising. And try not to to punch out anyone else for at least two weeks, okay? You have pretty hands, don’t ruin them on someone’s jaw.” He sends Steve a slanted smirk before turning and walking back to where his drink awaits him on the other side of the bar.

It takes Steve a solid ten seconds to decide that he’s gonna do something stupid.  
______

“Ya know, you can’t just kiss a guy’s knuckles and walk away.” The agitation in the man’s ( _...kid’s? Upon closer inspection he can’t be older than 22…23, tops_ ) voice gives Bucky a wonderful reason to grin into his whiskey before turning on his bar stool to face him.

“I figured we were even, kid. You walked away after I saved your sweet ineffectual little fists from a beat down, and then I walked away after kissing said fist. But see, now you’re back and we’re uneven again.” Bucky points out, swirling the contents of his glass in between those intriguing metal-plated fingers with mock ponderance.

There’s a beat of silence between the two that’s filled in with surrounding strangers’ conversation, laughter, and music before the blonde huffs out a breath and sits on the stool to the man’s left. “I’m Steve Rogers, and I’m 23 so,” ( _bingo_ Bucky thinks), “I’m not a kid. Also, might I add that I totally had him on the ropes.”

“Didya really, Stevie?” Bucky turns and smirks at him, secretly enjoying the way the name feels on his tongue. “Sweetheart, he would have pummeled you had I let him.”

“Bullshit!” Steve bolsters back, as he snatches Bucky’s whiskey and takes a slow drink. “I’ll have you know that I led self defense classes in college, totally would have kneed him in the groin and walked all over him. If you hadn’t--”

“Saved your ass?” Bucky interjects.

“Interfered.” Steve finishes, placing the drink back in Bucky’s waiting hand. “You gotta name?” He asks after a beat.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Wow...that’s…”

“A nickname.” Bucky adds. “My sister gave it to me. First name’s James, but no one except for outranking military officials and my mother called me by it.”

“Military…would that be the explanation of the…” He points to Bucky’s left arm.

“You always this forward?” Bucky asks, kinda liking the way the kid didn’t hesitate to ask, along with the way his baby blue eyes trail down it with brazen curiosity.

“Kinda, yeah…at least when I drink.” He admits with a shrug.

“Mmm.” Bucky nods. “Want the long or short of it?”

“I always like it long.” Steve replies without a second thought, and Bucky wants to brush his fingertips along the beautiful blush that creeps up Steve’s neck as his brain apparently catches up with his mouth.

“Mmm...I have half a mind to delve into the meaning of that, but I’m gonna let it slide for now.” Bucky grins, reaching over to pluck the now soaked cloth off Steve’s hand. “Went into the Army at eighteen. Served for fifteen years. By year five I was promoted to be in the special forces.” Tossing the cloth behind the bar he continues to talk while making himself at home, gathering a new cloth with fresh ice. “Deployed most of the year, came home for maybe a month at a time, then would be called out to mission again. By year nine I led my own team, and by year eleven we were taking on the big hitters. More dress up to go undercover in different countries than actual combat.”

Steve lets him take his hand, the metal chilled from gathering the ice holds his wrist gently as he begins inspecting the bones again. “Year fifteen we were in Russia for an op, had been there for almost the whole year, scheduled to return home in two weeks when the mission goes to hell in a handbasket.” Unconsciously Bucky starts running his fingertips between the webbing of Steve’s fingers and over his knuckles, zoning out as he continues. “Fuckin’ Wilson, this guy gets himself found out, they overhear him on the phone with his Ma, you would think it would have been the fact that there’s probably not too many black Russians out there, but nope.” He pops the last /p/ of the word.

“These guys figure it out via a phone call. Long story short, they capture Wilson, take him to some fuckin basement death lair bullshit you only see in the movies, to which we gather our weapons we have stashed around the place, and intervene. Shit gets real, everyone’s shootin’ everyone, and as we’re getting out by the skin of our fuckin’ teeth, I have Wilson over my right shoulder, luckily he’s short; though if you ask him he’ll tell you he’s a solid 5’9”...he’s lying.”

His own laugh startles him out of his zoning to realize his current occupation of Steve’s hand; quickly he replaces his fingers with the ice. “Then for some fuckin’ reason some asshole shoots me with a harpoon gun, because apparently those things are common in the motherland. I block it from hitting Sam but it goes through my left shoulder. He tugs hard, I tug harder. It rips through my shoulder so hard my arm is barely hanging on. Needless to say I’m honorably discharged. Get a nice shiny Purple Heart and an equally shiny new arm from Tony Stark and that’s that.” He finishes with a shrug, as if he just read Steve his Sunday shopping list.

“Wow...” Steve’s never truly been at a loss for words, but he figures now’s as good a time as any.

“Shit.” Turning his body towards Steve he cringes, brows furrowing as he searches Steve’s face. _Just told a very hot stranger...kid...person...your war wound story. Real smooth Barnes, super sexy move_. “I’m sorry. Probably should have given you the short of it. It’s only been two years and I forget not everyone handles trauma the way soldi-”

“It’s okay, really.” Steve assures gently, taking the ice off his hand before laying his palm on Bucky’s left, and every warning bell in Bucky’s brain starts sounding as the sensors register the cool skin. “One, I asked for the story. Two, thank you for your service, seriously, you deserve more than just the multitude of metal. Three. I’m slow at mental math but have I ever told you how into older guys I am?”

Barking out a laugh at the break in the tension, Bucky’s whole face lights up as he shakes his head. Steve itches for a pencil, paper, a napkin, a crayon, fucking anything to capture Bucky Barnes’ eyes crinkling at the corners due to the biggest smile, all because of something Steve said.

“I’m old enough to be your father.” Bucky adds, nudging Steve’s knee with his own.

“Apparently you’re not great at mental math either.” Steve bites his lip, almost holding back the next comment that’s desperately sitting on the tip of his tongue, but the alcohol is hitting and making everything light and easy, and his hand is finally not throbbing anymore, so for some reason it’s just too easy to look up from under his lashes and let the words go free... “I don’t mind calling you Daddy though.”

And that’s the moment Bucky realizes he’s thoroughly fucked.

 _Take any moment, any time_  
_A lover on the left_  
_A sinner on the right_

“I’m gonna go the john, while you get me another shot, ‘k Daddy?” Steve grins sweetly into the silence that’s left in the aftermath of his mini bombshell, before making his way off the stool and to the restroom.

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck._ The brazen move and a fair amount of cinnamon whiskey has Steve’s heart pounding as he enters the restroom. Did he really have to pee? No. But did he really want to splash some cold water on his now burning face? Absolutely. _Daddy? You called him Daddy? Fuck fuck fuck_. Steve stares at himself in the mirror; the blush makes his eyes startlingly blue, and his pupils, he notes, are a bit wide. _Wipe that star-crossed lover look off your face before going back to the hot 35 year old_. He chastises himself before turning on the faucet, ignoring the opening of the bathroom door as he ducks his head, letting the cool water he has cupped in his hands calm his burning cheeks. _What were you thinking?_ He sighs before repeating the action.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that Rogers?” Steve’s back stiffens as he rights himself in front of the mirror, staring at the man behind him’s reflection. _Brock Rumlow_. _Of-fuckin-course_.

Although his heart is pounding for a completely different reason than it was when he entered the restroom, Steve feins nonchalance while eyeing the door behind Brock. “Pardon me for wanting to have an adult conversation about you wanting to date other people in private rather than in a bar.” Steve replies blandly, drying off his hands and moving to the door.

Brock blocks his path. “We ain't done here.” His hands engulf Steve’s upper arms as his lip curls.

As Brock’s fingers tighten around Steve’s arms, his breath hitches. “The fuck are you doing?”

“You think you can just walk away?” Brock’s breath is hot, the stench of stale beer permeating the air, blowing into Steve's face. “You think I would invest my time and effort into your sorry skinny ass and you just get to walk the fuck away?” He punctuates his words by slamming Steve into the counter of the bathroom. Steve knows it’s gonna leave an ugly bruise along his lower back, and a slick layer of fear lances its way down his spine along with the pain. “You know what I should do, you little prick,” Brock’s nose bumps Steve’s, filling up his vision as Brock’s hips press into his, “I should fu-”

The words disappear along with Brock’s face as he’s torn away from Steve so suddenly that Steve stumbles forward at the loss of painful contact. Righting himself he finds Brock being held a few inches above the tiled floor by a metal hand that’s tightening around his throat.

Bucky’s voice is quiet and calm as he presses in close, watching as the wonderful shades of red begin to decorate Brock’s face while he fights for breath. “I wish you understood all the ways I could kill you. If we weren’t in a bar, if we weren’t around people, I would fucking end your worthless ass right here and now.” He stops as Brock makes a ragged choking sound. “That would be your body panicking because of the lack of oxygen to your brain. Give it thirty more seconds and the capillaries will begin to burst. It doesn’t feel too good, but I don’t really give a fuck.”

“Bucky…” Steve’s eyes are wide as he watches Brock’s panicking hands grip onto the metal arm, red is quickly turning to purple.

Bucky silences him with a glance over his shoulder, his stare is blank and cool, before turning back to the man he has pressed against the wall, and he continues. “You’re gonna leave. If you look at him, touch him, or contact him in any way, I will take you apart piece by piece in the most painful ways you can’t even imagine. I’ll hide them all over so no one will find you, and I’ll enjoy it.” Releasing Brock’s throat he lets the man fall to the floor of the bathroom in a crumpled heap, ragged breaths filling the resounding silence as his hands rub at his neck. “Remember that, ‘k pal?” He finishes, before taking Steve’s hand and pulling him out of the bathroom. 

 _Lay in the atmosphere_  
_A casual affair_  
_Hush-hush, don't you say a word_

Steve has to double time his stride to keep up with Bucky as they cross the bar. Bucky drops a $50 on the bar where he was previously seated before continuing his pursuit of a side exit.

“What the fuck?” Steve asks the back of Bucky’s head, who in turn gives no acknowledgment. “Bucky…” He’s almost out of breath as Bucky’s left hand slams into the metal release of the door. An ominous crunching sounds leads Steve to believe that the bar may or may not be in the market for a new door come morning. “Bucky what the fuck was th-”

The lips that crash into his are as unyielding as the brick wall that he finds himself pressed against. Whatever Steve was thinking is quickly erased by the swipe of Bucky’s tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, and the sudden press of large hands against his hips. The roaring in Steve’s ears is drowned out by the way Bucky groans deep in his chest as he presses in closer, crowding Steve against the wall while sufficiently blocking out the rest of the world. Bucky nips at Steve’s bottom lip before working his way over the sharp line of Steve’s jaw, as his fingers trail under the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Bucky...” Steve moans, sucking in a breath, before the image of Brock gasping for air as he sat on the bathroom floor flashes through his mind. Suddenly Steve’s hands are pushing at Bucky’s hard chest instead of pulling him closer. “Bucky!” He says it more incessantly, resisting the urge to let his eyes roll back in his head when Bucky nips at his earlobe. “St-stop, we...we gotta talk about what just happened.”

The fog in Bucky’s brain rapidly dissipates. He finds himself regretfully moving his hands off of Steve and on to the cool brick behind him; with their bodies still pressed together he can feel the sharp staccato of Steve’s heart against his diaphragm. “What is there possibly to say?” He asks, opening his eyes to bore into Steve’s - they’re still blown from the kiss.

“I just…I don’t think it was right what you did...you threatened to kill him.” Steve shoves Bucky again, who doesn’t budge. “What were you even thinkin’ Bu-”

“Wh...what was I thinking Steve?!” Bucky stammers, face aghast as stares at Steve incredulously. “How about what the fuck were you thinking, huh? Do you not have the capacity in that tiny body full of rage to be scared for a second? Do you have no sense of self preservation? He was literally pressed against you when I walked in and all I could see in your eyes was ‘pissed off’ instead of fear. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this before Steve, BUT THAT’S THE WRONG REACTION WHEN SOMEONE IS GONNA EITHER RAPE OR BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!”

Bucky watches the change spear its way through Steve’s eyes - gone is the lasting effects of arousal, in its place is red hot rage that causes Steve to sneer back, voice going deadly quiet. “And what good would fear have done me?” He spits, “I’ve been fighting my own battles against assholes long before you ever showed up. Fear never got me anywhere. So fuck your self-preservation bull shit. I’m not the one dumb enough to threaten to murder the guy. Do you realize he can get you for assault? Do you realize how stupid that was of you, to lift him by his THROAT Buck?! Christ. There could be cops on their way now!” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence and Steve has to look away from Bucky as he leans his head back against the wall.

With a sigh and a silent prayer to whatever mythical being brought the tiny ball of anger and righteousness into his life over an hour ago, Bucky surprises them both by leaning his forehead against Steve’s. “Don’t worry about that. I mean...if you’re truly worried, I have a friend who can take care of it.”

“You’re gonna have him killed!?” Steve asks in a harsh whisper, abject horror written across his face.

“No, dumbass,” Bucky scoffs, laughing at the absurdity of the statement, “I have a friend who can hack the bar’s cameras and wipe any footage of us going into the bathroom.”

“That…” Steve ponders it for a moment, “seems unethical.”

“And the guy trying to rape you is just perfectly fine?” Bucky bites back. His words lose their force when he presses his lips to Steve’s forehead.

Steve grumbles. “That’s beside the point.”

“Mmm, I bet it is.” Bucky murmurs, letting his hands drop from the wall to Steve’s shoulders, quickly removing them when Steve winces at the contact. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Steve shrugs. “Brock had a pretty good hold of me before you came in, and I bruise like a peach, that’s all.”

“That’s all, he says.” Bucky scoffs sarcastically to the sky. “Listen. Years in the Army means years of hoarding tons of Army-grade lotions and potions. I have some salve at my apartment that’ll take down the swelling and possible bruising. We had to use it when there wasn’t a med-bay near us. It’s the least I can do, saving your life twice in one night and all.”

“Let me get this straight. You want to take me back to your apartment to rub lotion on me?” Steve asks, smirking up at Bucky.

“It’s salve, Steve. Strictly medical.” Bucky starts blandly before winking at him. “If you just happen to have your clothes off, in said apartment, while I rub you down with medicine, and then maybe I just happen to kiss you, well, we just can’t help what follows can we?” He asks in mock innocence.

“Guess not.” Steve starts walking out of the alley, a full grin in place as he asks over his shoulder, “so you’re gonna take care of me tonight, Daddy?” He can’t help but giggle as he feels Bucky’s arm snake around his waist.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby. You have no idea.” He murmurs into Steve’s ear before hailing the a cab.

 _Stay for as long as you have time_  
_So the mess that we'll become_  
_Leaves something to talk about_

Electric need pulses between the pair as the elevator makes its way to Bucky’s floor. No matter the hour, New York never sleeps, Steve thinks as the doors slide open and people come and go, drawing out the length of the ride long enough for Bucky to begin to trace patterns along the back of Steve’s forearm while they’re still in the single digits. Over and over, lazy loops feel like they’re burned into Steve’s skin by the simplest brush of Bucky’s fingers. The stray touch, hidden from the sight of the other elevator attendees, shouldn’t have such an effect, shouldn’t have Steve reciting The Lord’s Prayer in his head on repeat to keep from pitching a tent right then and there…which admittedly would be fairly painful due to the constricting efforts of his pants. Steve throws glances at Bucky at every floor, wanting to simultaneously step on his toes and mount him right there as he smiles and nods to the people coming and going. The fingers find their way off his arm and to his lower back. The closer they get to floor fifteen, the higher the fingers trail delicately over each knob of his spine through his shirt. At thirteen they briefly graze along each shoulder blade, at fourteen they finally touch the skin of his neck, but just barely, and finally the elevator rings and the doors slide open to fifteen. Long agile fingers wind their way briefly into the back of Steve’s golden locks, giving one sharp possessive tug that has Steve biting his bottom lip, before the remaining standerbys part to let them out, to which the hand drops unnoticed, slipping Steve’s fingers in between his own and escorting him away.

Bucky’s thumb grazes along Steve’s knuckles as he single handedly works the key into the lock, opening the door to the apartment. Steve only has a brief moment to catch the view of high brick walls, marked with industrial piping and large black-and-white portraits of tall skyscrapers over the couch, before he’s being tugged into what comes to be Bucky’s bedroom. Floor to ceiling built-ins and shelves stuffed with books and picture frames adorn the large king-size bed. Steve gives a satisfied hum when Bucky’s lips meet his. His knuckles stroke gently over Steve’s jaw before cupping the back of his neck and tugging him forward so sharply that Steve stumbles into the embrace, hands splaying across Bucky’s chest. His heart is hammering so loud he can’t help but wonder if Bucky can hear it too; certainly he must feel it under his fingertips as his thumb busies itself along Steve’s pulse.

Warmth encases him when Bucky lowers them onto the bed with gentle ease, pulling back to reveal blown out pupils and hair disheveled in every direction at the musing of Steve’s fingers. “Ya know,” he rights himself to his knees, straddling Steve’ waist before working the buttons of Steve’s shirt open to reveal alabastar skin mapped with delicate rivers of blue veins, and a chest that’s working just a little too hard for it’s breath, “I wanted you since I saw you walk in the bar.” Steve blushes all the way down to his sternum and Bucky swears it gives him life.

“You did not.” He refutes, eyes watching the deft movement of Bucky’s hands as they work his own shirt open.

“Swear it.” The grin is equal parts charm as it is tease. “You were so pissed, and I couldn’t help but want to run my fingers down your spine in the heat of that moment just to see your reaction.” Sliding the shirt off his shoulders he tosses it to the floor, noting the way Steve’s eyes study the scarring on his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t bother me if you touch.” He adds.

“Good.” Voice deep and sincere, Steve balances himself on one hand while his other comes up to trace along the treacherous scars. “Because I want to touch you everywhere.” The movement has his shirt falling off his slender shoulders, revealing an array of bruises that are quickly discoloring to a purplish blue.

“Fuck.” It’s sharp and at first Steve thinks he did something wrong, drawing his hand back from the scarring at the bite in Bucky’s tone, and then the bed is dipping and Bucky’s moving across the room and into the adjoining bathroom.

“Wait, where- “

“Hold on a sec.” His voice is muffled and short as the sound of a cabinet door opens and closes, before he comes back in, a small container in his hand. “For the bruises.” He explains.

“Oh.” Truthfully, he has completely forgotten about the the marks, and given the fact that he got a fantastic view of the thick outline of Bucky’s hard-on as he had gotten off the bed, he could care less about them now. “We can do that later, can’t we?” Hooking a finger into the belt loop of Bucky’s jeans as he climbs across on the bed with his knees, he tugs him close. “Please?”

“Don’t bat your eyes at me.” Bucky nudges Steve’s hand away and pushes him back. Steve lands with a huff against the pillows. “And don’t pout. This’ll help.” Unscrewing the cap, he dips his fingers inside.

“Your dick’ll help.” Steve murmurs.

“I heard that.” Bucky grins as he moves to Steve’s side, setting the container aside in favor of nudging Steve’s arm into his lap.

“You were supposed to.” He replies, hissing as the cold lotion works into his skin, the smell of peppermint tingles his nose and its chilling effect causes a wave of goosebumps to crest over his body. “ ‘T’s cold.” He grumbles, even as Bucky is moving to his other arm, eyeing the bruises before rubbing the cream in.

“I know, baby,” He replies softly, brushing a kiss over Steve’s forehead with surprising tenderness. “Turn over for me. I know he slammed you pretty hard against that counter,” he explains, “let me fix it, then I’ll warm you right up.”

Steve perks up. “How’re you gonna do that?” he asks, turning over to lay on his stomach, wincing at the cold touch over his skin.

“Mmmm.” Bucky hums softly, clamping down the anger that bubbles up at the sight of the bruise that stretches across Steve’s lower back, promising himself to give everything he can in atonement for not protecting Steve in the first place. “Well, first,” he caps the lotion and drops it to the floor before straddling the smaller man’s thighs, “I’m gonna tell you how absolutely beautiful you are.” He watches Steve smile and bury his head into the pillows. The words ghost along the cool area of his back as Bucky’s mouth hovers over his skin. Pressing a kiss into the area above the lotion, he grins. “See, that warmed you right up, judging by the color of your ears.”

A muffled response of “jerk” dislodges from under the pillows.

“Punk.” Bucky responds, kissing a few of the prominent vertebrate. “Next...I could just spend all night touchin’ you like this,” his fingers trail upward along Steve’s spine, followed closely by Bucky’s lips. Steve’s arching into the touch like a cat, the scruff of Bucky’s beard along his back sending little shocks through his system, and Bucky just grins into the response. “Want me to do that, baby? Want me to tell you how pretty you are and just touch you all night?” He asks, maneuvering his hands to drag his nails sharply down Steve’s sides when he doesn’t get an answer, and that…that fucks Steve up. The quick pain, the cold chill of the lotion, and the prickle of Bucky’s beard has him releasing his first needy moan into the pillows, ass pressing up in search of something to grind into. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I hate you.” Steve grumbles, a little out a breath and on edge.

“No you don’t.” Bucky’s mouth nibbles along his shoulder blades while his hands work their way under Steve’s body, seizing the opportunity as Steve cants his ass into Bucky’s crotch, creating just enough space for Bucky’s hands. He quickly releases the button and zipper. Hooking his thumbs into the band of his boxer briefs, he glances up. “You sure?” Bucky asks, smiling as those blue eyes stare into his, blinking slowly back at him as if he’s speaking another language. “Consent sweetheart, kinda important, ya?”

When Bucky’s thumbs dip under his boxers to rub little circles over the skin of his hip bones, Steve comes to realize that forming words isn’t really an option any more. He stares back at Bucky and nods while biting his bottom lip.

“Good boy.” Bucky pulls them down slowly, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin across Steve’s tiny pert ass, the smooth delicate curve of his thighs, and even behind his knees, until the pants drop to the floor. Sitting back, all he can do is stare in silent wonder at the man laid out in front of him. Yards of smooth pale skin mapped with blue veins beg to be memorized by Bucky’s tongue. Steve makes a tiny sound in the back of his throat as a fresh wave of shivers rack his body, and Bucky is instantly nudging his own pants off, finally relieving his red aching cock from its confines. “So fucking gorgeous, turn over for me sweetheart, let me see that pretty cock, bet it’s aching for me, isn’t it baby?”

Warmth shoots through Steve at Bucky’s words; unable to control himself he whines again while giving a slow roll of his hips, dragging his cock along the soft bed spread, aching for relief. Until a sharp slap to his ass causes him to yelp and turn beet red.

“You don’t listen very well, do ya sugar?” Bucky teases, nudging Steve onto his back. “There ya go doll, look at you.” Bucky’s eyes feast just as quickly as his hands begin to touch. Straddling Steve’s waist, mutual gasps linger in the air as they finally press together. Bucky gives himself over to temptation, letting one long and slow roll of his hips glide their silky lengths together. “Oh God.” He says it to whatever god is listening, whatever god put Steve Rogers on this earth to look up at him with wide blue eyes, a flush across his cheeks and cherry-red lips parted in a needy moan. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Bucky buries his face into Steve’s neck, inhaling the seductive scent of lingering cologne and Steve. Nuzzling in he nips under Steve’s ear, murmuring phrase after phrase, wanting nothing more than for Steve to never stop moving under him. Never stop whining Bucky’s name as if it was a prayer. “So fucking gorgeous doll, your pretty cock hard and leaking, can’t wait for it to be in my mouth baby, can’t wait to eat that pretty ass of yours, to fuck you open with my tongue and fingers, can’t fuckin wait to have you scream my name as you cum on my dick, can you do that for me baby? Can you let everyone know who’s fuckin’ you tonight?” He can’t stop and Steve’s a mess under him, whining and bucking his hips, a steady stream of “yes, fuck yes, fuck fuck fuck, Bucky...fuck...” The words stumble out of his mouth as he feels the pleasure building, his balls tighten, drawing close up to his body befo-

“No no no.” Bucky leans back, breath heavy as his left hand grips the base of Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, shit, you son of a bitch, fuck. Please, Bucky. ‘S close, was so close, please please please, need to-” Steve’s staring up at him, lashes wet from his denied pleasure as Bucky takes the words in stride, successfully shushing him by pressing their lips together in a slow dirty kiss.

“I know baby, I know I’m the worst. Just the absolute worst.” He murmurs against Steve’s pliant mouth, thrilled by the throbbing of Steve’s leaking cock in his hand. “But you can wait for me, can’t you doll? Is that okay? Can you wait ‘til I’m in you? Fucking your pretty ass, tell me you can wait for me baby, I’m just dying to be inside you Stevie.”

Steve’s hips fight to move. Vaguely in the back of his mind it registers that the hand that’s holding him isn’t flesh, and that thought alone has more precum drooling out of him. “Fuckin’ hurry. Need you. Need you to fuck me. Fuck.”

“I know baby, I know.” Bucky reaches with his free hand, blindly grabbing lube and a condom from the bedside drawer, before sliding down in between Steve’s knees. “What a dream you are sweetheart, all beautiful and laid out for me, just waiting for me to put my cock in you.” Placing a kiss on Steve’s inner thigh he makes the mistake of looking up to see Steve watching him through half-lidded eyes. Those long eyelashes flutter with each tender kiss, and his heart skips a beat in his chest. “Christ,” he murmurs once more before placing his hands on the back of Steve’s thighs, pushing them back so his feet nestle on the crook of Bucky’s shoulders. “That’s it doll,” Bucky encourages, “nice and open for me.” Bucky’s thumbs draw little circles all the way down to Steve’s hole and Steve’s on cloud nine when the first touch of Bucky’s tongue swipes over his hole. Warmth spears through him and his cock gives a small ‘smack’ on his stomach as the pleasure rolls through him.

“Yes, fuck yes Daddy. Please, more.” Steve moans, body lighting up at the swipe of Bucky’s tongue from his hole to his balls, warm and wet.

“Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart.” Bucky murmurs before his tongue plunges straight into the furled hole, swiping and fucking quickly, pushing as much wet warmth into Steve as he can manage. Sloppy and wet, Bucky can’t think of anything else except for how wonderful it sounds to hear Steve moan over and over in his bed, those long delicate fingers twist in the comforter until the first finger enters him. The cool lube and metal register just a second later and Bucky barely has time to get his mouth on Steve’s cock before Steve’s bowing off the bed, his hands scrambling to find purchase in Bucky’s hair.

“Fuck yes Daddy!” Steve shouts as Bucky sucks like his life depends on it. _Oh shit, Christ, fuck fuck fuck_ , Steve can feel the warmth pooling again. The warm wet heat of Bucky’s mouth and the second finger he swipes right along his prostate as soon as it’s added and it’s too much, toes curling into Bucky’s shoulders, he’s teetering on the sharp hot edge of pleasu-

“FUCK!” Bucky’s fingers loop around Steve’s cock so hard he’s seeing stars as tears leak from his eyes.

“I know, baby, I know.” Bucky coos, kissing the purple tip of Steve’s cock, smearing the precum around his lips as he continues to drive his fingers into Steve’s ass. “Do I need to stop, baby boy? Does Daddy need to stop and let you rest for a minute?” Bucky’s voice is full of concern, but his fingers don’t slow at all, they pump furiously inside of him, making it nearly impossible for Steve to think, with his cock in Bucky’s tight grasp and the cool metal pumping in and out of him. “Answer Daddy sweetheart, do you need me to stop.”

 _No, please, never let me go, fuck_. Steve’s brain stutters to finds words. “N-no please don’t stop. Need your cock in me.” Steve begs, revelling in the sting of a third glorious finger entering his body, just on the right edge of too soon after the last.

“Can I let go of this pretty cock baby,” Bucky adds a kiss to the tip obscenely, “or are you gonna cum if Daddy lets go?”

Steve can’t think, he can’t possibly think about anything other then getting Bucky’s cock inside of him. His body is wound tight like a coil, every nerve exposed as he watches Bucky lick the slick cum off his lips. Noticing the struggle Bucky looks up at him and smiles with all the confidence of a lion stalking its prey. “You’re almost there, baby,” he gives Steve’s cock one long slow pump and Steve mewls into the torturous touch, “you’re so wet and sloppy and ready for my cock, do you know that doll?” Bucky asks, pausing at the base of Steve cock before letting his hand slide back up to capture the pearl of cum and swirl it around the head. Finally he can feel Steve taking all three fingers without any resistance, and thank god because he doesn’t know how much more of Steve being spread out, moaning and calling him Daddy, he can take. The primal urge to fuck and feast is ripping it’s way through him, and it’s all he can do to not press Steve up against the headboard and slam into him.

Instead he sighs long and low, a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he bites the corner of the package and opens it carefully. Releasing Steve only to slide the rubber down his own aching length, Bucky looks up to see Steve watching him, eyes glassy and fucked out, the beautiful blush spreading down his body. “Can’t wait to be inside of you, baby boy,” Bucky murmurs, spreading a layer of slick along his length under Steve’s watchful gaze.

Steve takes in the beautiful sight that is Bucky Barnes rubbing his cock while staring at Steve likes he’s a feast and never in his twenty-three years on earth has he ever felt so wanted. Everything in him aches for more, aches to finally be full after what feels like hours of pleasure. “Please Daddy,” he begs softly, and fuck it’s worth the extra blush it takes to force the words out if it means getting to watch that feral look of need spread across Bucky’s face, “need you.”

The thin veil of control shreds at the desperate little sigh from Steve’s lips. Bucky surges forward, pulling Steve flush against his body as their lips collide. Steve emits a little huff of breath as the sudden pressure of Bucky’s arm on his back registers and their positions are flipped. Steve’s hands find themselves splayed along strong shoulders, one flesh one metal, and he quickly decides to follow through with his earlier promise as his mouth traces across Bucky’s beard, teeth nipping into his neck. He feels the jerk of Bucky’s cock along his ass and he grins into the crook of his shoulder before bringing his mouth to Bucky’s ear. “Please Daddy,” his teeth nip the lobe sharply, and he revels in the resounding gasp, “put your fat cock in me, been waiting all night for you to fill me up.” He sucks the lobe into his mouth briefly before releasing it in a heady moan when the blunt tip of Bucky’s cock plays at his hole.

“Want my cock, baby?” Bucky teases, barely moving his hips so that just the head pops in and out. “Want Daddy to fill you up?”

Steve thrusts back as much as he can, but Bucky keeps moving, just out of reach, only just giving him the tip. “Please, Bucky please.”

“Take it.” Bucky demands and watches in awe as Steve slides all the way down in one swift movement; Steve moans, his head thrown back, flushed and glorious as his hole stretches to accommodate. The heat is incredible, slick, wet, and all encompassing. Through the pleasure Bucky can’t quite seem to grasp the concept that Steve’s panting above him, begging for more, until two palms are planting themselves across Bucky’s pecs and he’s lifting his slim hips up slowly, giving Bucky the perfect view of his own cock sliding slowly out of Steve’s messy hole before it fully disappears when Steve slams himself down, groaning Bucky’s name into the air. “Fuck, yes baby.” Again Steve’s moving, arching back to the position where he knows Bucky’s cock will hammer into his prostate. His own cock stands hard and proud, drooling between the two as he slams himself over and over, stars bursting behind his eyes as the pleasure rakes up his body with every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pants, he can feel it, he can feel everything. The warmth tingling all over his body, the way one cool hand trails down the length of his spine as the other grips his hip, encouraging him on. He’s never felt anything like this, but god dammit now he can feel it all and he never wants it to stop. “Please, fuck me, fuck me.” He begs even as he fucks himself onto Bucky’s cock.

And suddenly two hands still his hips and Steve is falling forward as Bucky’s feet plant themselves onto the bed, his lips collide with Bucky’s just as he starts to piston his hips slowly, a gentle ease to counter Steve’s previous wild administrations. He feels each and every inch of Bucky’s cock, every simmering moan from Bucky’s body vibrates through his chest, and Steve feels hot and wanted. In this moment there is only the two of them, in this bed, in this world, fucking and taking every ounce of pleasure freely given from one another. Bucky feels it build, the tight ball of heat working it’s way up his thighs and he brings his right hand between them, keeping Steve propped up just enough to graze the little bundle of nerves as his hand wraps around Steve’s cock. He hears Steve’s gasp into his neck, feels the wonderful clench of heat around him, his hips piston up as fast as he can as his own toes are curling and stars are erupting behind his eyes as the warm pleasurable heat of his orgasm bows him over, the low moan of his name in his ear makes him smile as Steve’s warm cum paints his stomach.

 _Just lay in the atmosphere_  
_A casual affair_  
_Hush-hush, don't you say a word_

When morning comes, it brings with it comfortable warmth and limbs tangled together. Easy conversation flows between the two as they remain in the confines of the bed, exchanging light touches of familiarity over each others bodies. Steve laughs brightly and Bucky momentarily loses his train of thought, brushing a kiss across Steve’s forehead he draws him in and continues, drawing lazy loops with his fingers over the expanse pale perfect skin. Later, one of them leaves the confines (Bucky) on the mission to bring back coffee, tea (Steve), and snacks before they tuck back into the nest of warmth.

Bucky learns that Steve’s an art student at NYU, and he can’t help but notice how he lights up when he discusses his graduate classes and their upcoming art exhibit that’ll display their senior portraits.

“ - and I don’t even think that Clint knows what post impressionism is but he swears i-”

“When is it?”

“When’s what?” Steve asks, his head cocking to the side as he runs the sheets that pooled around his waist between his fingers. “The art exhibit?”

Bucky nods from his place on the pillows, letting his hand graze along the bony knee that rests on his bare hip. “Figured I’d go see the local color, maybe pick me up a hot artist, take him to dinner.”

“You asking me on a date, Barnes?” Steve enquires, leaning in on his elbows and brushing his lips across the metallic plating of Bucky’s shoulder.

“I guess I am, Rogers. Think you can let me woo you outside of bars, bathrooms and alleyways?” Bucky nips at Steve’s jaw, his arm encircling the tiny waist drawing him close.

“Hmmmmm.” Already knowing the answer as he’s pulled into the warmth that the languid kiss offers, he feels his body sink into the rising swell of familiarity. Steve pulls back and blue eyes meet gray as he murmurs with a grin, “we’ll see.”

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> *Le Sigh* These two. That song. 
> 
> Ugh. Feels. Sexy sexy feels. 
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Let me know! Comments and kudos make me write this mess <3 Thank you for taking the time to read!!! Feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](https://love-ha-fge.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> All the love in the world to the best beta a girl could ask for. [MissyRivers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyRivers/pseuds/MissyRivers) makes my life so much easier y'all. Go check out her new work Coffee Orders and Sleep Disorders.


End file.
